


It Happened at the Halloween Fair

by gothyringwald, socknonny



Series: harringrove holidays [6]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Amusement Parks, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Holding Hands, M/M, Mutual Pining, Shenanigans, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 00:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21261944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald, https://archiveofourown.org/users/socknonny/pseuds/socknonny
Summary: All Steve wants is to enter his mom’s pie at the Halloween Fair… what he doesn’t expect is Billy Hargrove, sentient teddy bears, and a giant, pink monstrosity. Seems like Halloween is about to get a whole lot weirder.





	It Happened at the Halloween Fair

**Author's Note:**

> We needed some spoopy Halloween fluff. Hope you enjoy!

‘It’s only five past,’ Steve says, one hand gripping the chainlink fence that stands between him and his destination, the other maintaining a precarious hold on the reason he’s here. The box slips and Steve’s stomach swoops, his mind filled with visions of his mother’s prize-winning pumpkin pie falling to the ground. Splat. But he manages to shift the weight and save the pie from its untimely demise. ‘Can’t you let me in?’

‘Sorry,’ the guard says, ‘we close at nine. And I’m going home right about...’ He looks at his wrist, which is bare, and adds, ‘Now.’

‘But—‘ Steve presses his lips together. If that kid hadn’t argued with him about renting the R rated movie he would have been here with more than enough time to enter his mom’s pie. Veronica Harrington enters the pie contest every Halloween fair. And every year she wins. Everyone knows that. Except this year, apparently. ‘I mean, can’t you bend the rules just this once?’

The guard glares at him and turns on his heel without another word, disappearing into the fairgrounds.

‘Fuck.’ Steve rests his head against the fence, still clutching the box. He promised his mom he’d get the pie submitted and he’s going to have to tell her that he didn’t and she’s going to make that disappointed face that always makes his stomach twist. He hates that face.

‘Hey, Harrington.’

Steve startles. He hadn’t realised he wasn’t alone.  


‘What’s in the box?’ Billy Hargrove is leaning on the fence a few feet away, smoking a cigarette, and peering curiously at Steve.  


‘Pie.’ Steve turns toward Billy, a flutter in his pulse **. ** ‘For the competition. Or it was meant to be.’

‘Yeah? You looking to win the blue ribbon this year?’

Steve huffs. ‘It’s my mom’s pie. She was busy today so I said I’d submit it for her but I was late.’ He shifts his weight. ‘I can’t get anything right.’ He groans. Maybe he can just eat the pie and somehow hope his mom doesn’t find out.

Billy looks around, then back to Steve, taking a step closer. ‘I can sneak you in,’ he says, tone confidential. There’s a twinkle in his eyes but a haunted look too. It would be easy to miss, and Steve would have if Billy wasn’t standing so close and Steve hadn’t been at Starcourt when—

His heart thuds hard. It’s been well over a year but sometimes he’s still in that underground lair, tied up and drugged. Late one night, not long after, Robin had confessed she hoped the whole ordeal didn’t put her off Tarkovsky for life. Steve still doesn’t know what that is, but he got the sentiment anyway.  


There are too many reminders of what they went through. They seem inescapable, sometimes. Steve is surprised that Billy, of all people, stuck around Hawkins with the reminders it must hold for him. But maybe there was nowhere else to go.

‘Well?’ Billy says, brows raised.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Steve says, ‘that would be great. Thanks.’

Billy takes one last drag from his cigarette, crushes it beneath his boot, then strides off. Steve follows him. He tries not to notice how the moonlight glints off of the rivets of Billy’s jeans, or how well Billy fills the tight denim.  


‘Are you working here?’ Steve asks, mouth dry.

‘No,’ Billy says, ‘I just hang out by the carnival after hours in case someone needs to sneak pie in.’ He throws a wink over his shoulder that makes Steve’s stomach do something not entirely unpleasant.

‘Right.’

‘I’m working the Ferris wheel,’ Billy says as they round the corner and walk right through the workers’ entrance. No one says a thing. Not that there seems to be anyone else around.

The carnival is always cooler at night, prettier, but it’s kind of eerie when there’s no one else here. They make their way to the competition tents and Billy jerks his head at the largest—‘This is it’—then slips inside, Steve close behind.  


‘This is technically cheating, right?’ Steve asks, angling the entry form toward the light coming through the tent’s opened flap, scrawling his mom’s details into the appropriate boxes.

‘Yep. You’re a regular pie rebel,’ Billy says.

‘I just don’t want my mom to get disqualified that’s all,’ Steve says.

Something passes over Billy’s face that Steve can’t decipher. His lips quirk and he shakes his head, then leans over Steve’s shoulder, looking at the form. ’Your mom’s name is Veronica?’

‘Yeah,’ Steve says. He swallows thickly.

‘Anyone call her Ronnie?’

Steve snorts. ‘Definitely not.’

Billy hums and turns away.

Steve shivers and finishes the form, then shoves it in the middle of the pile. ‘Right. Where should I put this?’ he says, picking the pie up, carefully sliding it from the box.

‘Damn,’ Billy says, ‘that looks good.’ He leans closer, reaching out.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Steve says, one brow raised.

Billy blinks and then he smiles, raising his hands. ‘Sor-ry.’ He turns and makes space for Steve to put the pie down on one of the tables, between Mrs Henderson’s apple cranberry and one of old Miss Pickle’s notoriously weird concoctions. The card in front of it reads ‘peanut butter and prunes’.

Gross.

An awkward silence settles between Steve and Billy now that the pie caper is over. It’s filled with...something. But probably not what Steve wants it to be.  


Steve shoves his hands in his back pockets and looks at Billy. ‘Thanks,’ he says. They’re standing close to each other, and Steve swears electricity crackles in the air. But he’s probably imagining it.  


‘Don’t sweat it.’ Billy leans closer, hip cocked. ‘You can thank me with a slice of that pie.’ He nods at the table. ‘After your mom wins.’

‘Yeah,’ Steve’s voice comes out lower than he meant it to so he clears his throat and adds, ‘You could, uh, come around one night. For a slice. Or something.’

‘Or something,’ Billy says, tongue darting between his lips.  


And then the lights go out.

—

Billy waits for a second, enjoying the shock on Steve’s face until he realises it isn’t shock—it’s panic. The smirk falls from his face and he mentally curses himself for being a fucking idiot, because of course Steve would be on edge.

Sometimes Billy forgets he wasn’t the only one to go through the hellhole of last summer. Sometimes he forgets Steve apparently went through a lot more, for a lot longer.

'It’s fine,' he grunts, trying to inject a note of something caring into his voice. It makes him sound constipated, and he clears his throat and tries again. 'It happens every night, nine fifteen on the dot.'

This time, it comes out soft and weak, but Steve’s eyes cut to his and the panic fades. Billy’s heart stammers in his chest, and for the first time, he doesn’t mind sounding weak.

'Really?' Steve asks, and then he seems to realise how he sounds. He straightens his stance, clears his throat, and Billy watches as a strange mask descends across Steve’s face.

Interesting. Maybe Billy really isn’t the only one still hiding.

'I can get us free cotton candy,' Billy says, and he jerks his chin in the direction of the smaller back entrance to the tent. 'Out the back, round the bumper cars, through the mirror maze, under the ferris wheel, and hey presto. Keep a stash right there.'

Steve looks at him like he’s gone insane. He probably has. He’s babbling like an idiot.

'Only kidding. It’s just round the corner and the back of the machine is broken.'

This time, Steve laughs, the sound escaping in a tiny huff, and he shakes his head. Something warm surges in Billy’s chest, and he no longer feels like an idiot, feels like maybe something very different instead.

'Lead the way, Cotton Candy Knight.'

Billy lifts his eyebrows, incredulous. ' _ Cotton Candy Knight? _ '

Steve shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. 'It’s after dark and you’re giving me free cotton candy. If you’re gonna call me something dumb like King Steve, you’re going to need a fresh new moniker of your own.' He licks his lips, the smirk blowing up into a grin. 'Cotton Candy Knight.'

'Holy shit,' Billy breathes. 'You hang around the brats too much. That’s the dorkiest thing I’ve ever heard.' He turns away before Steve can see him laughing.

Billy hasn’t laughed like this in a while. Everything has been a little too raw for him to remember how to let go—truth be told, he never used to let go anyway—and it’s only now that he thinks maybe there’s a different way of being. Maybe it doesn’t always have to be like this.

He cuts across the back of the tent, footsteps crunching in the dirt, and lifts the flap for Steve, waving him through. 'As your knight,' he murmurs, fully aware of the gravelly rasp he can’t seem to drop from his voice. Fully aware of what it suggests, what it means. 'After you.' He drops his arm just as Steve moves forward, making him stop, and grins. 'But you have to call me Sir.'

Steve stumbles, gaping at him as a steady flush rises in his cheeks. Billy waggles his tongue, the warm feeling in his chest flaring in delight, and lifts the flap.

'Only joking,' he says, and lets Steve pass through unharassed.

It’s eerie walking through the carnival with the lights out, but Billy is used to it. In a way, he likes it. He isn’t really afraid of the dark, even though sometimes he feels he should be. Nonetheless, he isn’t afraid of the dark; he’s afraid of the light.

Billy knows what the darkness holds, and in some ways it’s comforting to walk amongst it and know that it doesn’t hold that for him anymore. But the light… the light, he doesn’t trust.

They weave their way amongst the empty tents and come to a halt in front of the cotton candy machine. The light inside has dimmed to standby mode, barely illuminating the shining metal stirrer. Billy walks around to the back of the machine, thumps it with his fist, and opens the service hatch.

'Open sesame.' He grins.

Steve grabs one of the sticks from the stand beside the machine and sticks it through, winding it amongst the cotton candy. 'Awesome! I haven’t had this since I was a kid.'

His face is alight with boyish joy, and it does stupid things to Billy’s heart. He clears his throat, and then begins to speak, useless words falling out of his mouth because Steve has that effect on him—particularly now, after everything—and Billy doesn’t know how to stop it. 'Yeah, I used to get it all the time with my m—'

The lights of the carnival snap back on, and Billy stutters to a halt.

'Do they turn back on again after ten minutes?' Steve asks, still winding cotton candy around his stick. 'That’s weird.'

'Nah,' Billy says slowly. 'This isn’t meant to happen.'

—

  
  


‘Maybe’—Steve draws in a breath, the thick scent of spun sugar filling his nose—‘maybe someone turned them back on?’

‘They’re on a timer,’ Billy says. His eyes are a little wider, and his breathing seems more purposeful.

Steve’s pulse gives a little kick. ‘Maybe the timer glitched or something?’

‘Maybe,’ Billy says, but he doesn’t sound like he believes it.

_ This isn’t meant to happen _ . Steve doesn’t like things that aren’t meant to happen. That’s why he freaked out when the lights shut off. He doesn’t know if Billy had noticed, hopes that he didn’t. But maybe Billy would understand.

It’s not that Steve is scared of the dark, exactly. Not all the time. It’s fine if he’s expecting it. It’s when he’s not that it’s a problem.

The unexpected just doesn’t sit well with him these days.

‘Maybe,’ Billy repeats. He looks around, eyes darting, then back to Steve.

Little wisps of cotton candy hang in the air between them, gauzy threads hazy in the moonlight.  


That electricity seems to crackle again but Steve still can’t tell if it’s all in his imagination. So, he clears his throat and turns his attention to the cotton candy. He’s about to rip off a chunk to shove in his mouth, so he doesn’t do something stupid like tell Billy how pretty he looks right now, when Billy knocks the stick out of his hand.  


It lands a few feet away, looking pathetic where it lies in the dirt.

‘Don’t eat that,’ Billy says.

‘What?’

‘It moved.’

Steve blinks. ‘It moved?’ He casts the discarded cotton candy a dubious look. It seems perfectly normal. ‘It was probably just the breeze.’

‘No, I—‘ Billy pauses, frowns. He looks at the cotton candy, then back to Steve. ‘Right.’ He shakes his head. His cheeks are flushed, and he dips his gaze.

‘Well, look, thanks for saving me, anyway,’ Steve says, scrambling for something to ease Billy’s embarrassment. ‘I mean, even if it’s not, you know, mutant cotton candy, you’ve saved me from some cavities.’

‘Cavities?’

‘Yeah, gotta look after those pearly whites, right?’ Steve actually taps his teeth. Fucking hell. He  _ is _ spending too much time with the kids. And he’s babbling. Again. At least it’s not as bad as the Cotton Candy Knight remark. Seriously, what  _ was _ that?

He may as well wear a sign that says, ‘Hi, I’m an idiot! Oh, also, I want to kiss you,’ but at least Billy didn’t think it was anything more than Steve being a dork. At least he didn’t hear the longing in Steve’s voice.  


‘Right,’ Billy says, eyes narrowed in what Steve hopes is amusement and not Billy deciding Steve is a Grade A weirdo and that he should make his excuses and get out of here. ‘I’ll make you another stick of cotton candy. If you want.’ Billy’s lips tilt into that famous smirk. ‘I mean, as your Cotton Candy Knight it’s my duty, right?’

Steve huffs. ‘Thanks.’ He casts another look at the first stick of cotton candy. It looks normal and it was probably the breeze but— He shrugs. ‘You know what, I’m good.’

‘OK,’ Billy says. He chews on the corner of a fingernail, looking up at Steve from beneath his stupidly long, ridiculously dark lashes. ‘Hey, do you want to—‘

But Steve never finds out what Billy was going to ask him. Because the cotton candy machine makes a gurgling, grinding noise that has Steve gritting his teeth and jumping back. ‘That’s not meant to happen either, right?’ His heart thunders.

Billy shakes his head. ‘No. It’s really not.’

They look at each other, across the distance of the malfunctioning machine, and then Steve says, ‘Maybe we should go?’

‘Yep,’ Billy says, ‘let’s do that.’

They head off in the direction they came, and Steve is heartened that Billy’s pace is as quick as his own. He feels foolish, getting spooked by some glitchy lights and a machine that probably hasn’t been serviced in fifteen years, but if he’s learnt anything by now it’s that it’s the little things you have to look out for. Those first signs.

And Billy seems every bit as spooked as Steve.

‘Did you drive?’ Steve asks, then curses himself. He isn’t even sure if Billy had his car fixed, or got another. It’s been over a year, and he doesn’t know that.

‘Nah,’ Billy says, a twinkle coming into his eyes, ‘I rode.’

‘Rode?’ Steve asks.

‘My bike?’

Steve’s mind fills with visions of Billy on a bicycle, mullet blowing in the wind. It’s only a brief vision, before he realises that Billy must mean a _motor_bike and heat floods his face. ‘Cool.’

Billy’s lips tilt. ‘Yeah.’

They continue on in silence, walking close enough that their hands brush once or twice.  


As they pass by the carousel, Steve gets the feeling of too many eyes watching him, can feel the cold gaze of wooden horses creeping along his skin. He shakes himself. It’s just a carousel.

They make it a few more steps and then the sound of organ music fills the air. It sends chills down Steve’s spine. Neither he nor Billy turn; they’ve both frozen on the spot.  


Steve looks sidelong at Billy. ‘How far is your bike?’

‘The other side of the grounds.’ Billy jerks his head back in the direction they walked from.

For a moment Steve forgets about the cotton candy and the carousel, because is Billy walking out of his way to see Steve to his car? But the music is too loud to forget and so Steve says, ‘My car’s closer. I can drive you home.’

Billy glances over his shoulder, eyes widening as they land on the now-moving carousel and says, ‘That sounds peachy, Harrington. Lead the way.’

—

Despite his deliberately casual tone, Billy’s skin crawls. He’s more on edge than he’s been since July, and it doesn’t even help that this is clearly something different. When shit went down in July it was… sudden. Before he even knew what was happening, he was trapped, no way out.

Sometimes, he still remembers how it felt to fall down those stairs, dragged by something he couldn’t see, and for it to all be over before he could even finish screaming. Over, and at the same time, only just beginning.

He shakes his head, curls bouncing across his face, and follows Steve as he cuts through the centre of the carnival. There’s no point thinking about July, particularly not now, because this shit is  _ different _ . Billy can sense it. He half expects to see a headless ghost float out in front of them, followed by a Benny Hill chase scene, because that’s exactly the kind of Hanna-Barbera Scooby Doo crap this feels like. But even though tonight feels like child’s play by comparison, every nerve-ending in his body screams for him to run.

He doesn’t know how to fight this. He didn’t know how to fight the other one, either. Turns out, Billy doesn’t know how to fucking fight anything.

In the distance, someone—some _ thing _ —laughs, a high-pitched cackle that echoes across the empty carnival, and Billy forces himself not to freeze. He tells himself it’s just one of the ghost rides. If all the power has suddenly come back on, it makes sense that everything would reset as well. That’s probably why the carousel is spinning, too.

Steve glances behind them. 'Don’t suppose I imagined that?' he asks, walking faster. His fingers twitch by his sides, almost like he went to reach for Billy and then stopped himself.

Even with the impending weirdness, Billy finds his gaze locked on Steve’s hand, heart thumping in his chest as he tries to work out if the way he read that was all in his head or if maybe it’s a goddamn Christmas miracle. On Halloween. Because Halloween’s cooler and Billy isn’t a loser who wishes for Christmas miracles.

'‘Fraid not,' Billy rasps when he realises Steve is still waiting for an answer. 'How do you feel about a short cut?'

'I feel fucking great about a short cut,' Steve says, a little too quickly as his eyes meet Billy’s.

They’re wide with fear, and Billy finally realises he isn’t the only one that’s scared. His fingers clench as he tries to stop himself from grabbing hold of Steve’s hand all on his own, and he steels his face into what he hopes is something impassive.

'This way.' Billy jerks his head towards a tiny gap between the mirror maze and the bumper cars, and they set off at a jog.

Just as they’re halfway down the row, squeezed between electrical equipment and safety hazard signs, the bumper cars turn on. An obnoxious, electronic jingle blasts from the speakers above their head, overlaid with a recorded voice that announces ‘ _ on your marks, racers!’  _ with an enthusiasm Billy thinks should be illegal.

'Shit!' Steve yelps, hands suddenly pressing to the back of Billy’s shoulders, urging him to go faster. 'Go, go!'

Billy doesn’t wait around to argue. He breaks into a sprint—as much as he can in this confined space, anyway—and races to the space at the end that will bring them out two yards from the chain link fence near the parking lot.

A shadow falls across the space at the end of the row. Billy gets a look at something strange, but it’s backlit by the lights from the bumper cars, and he can’t see it properly. A hazy mix of red, green, and white dances across the walls and the thing as it shifts a little closer, drops what might be a head a little lower. The announcer screams at them to  _ get set! _

Billy has no idea what that thing is. All he knows is it’s large, tinged an odd pink color, and he is  _ not  _ fucking with it tonight.

'In here!' He cuts sideways, to the mirror maze’s emergency exit, slams the door shut, and leans back in relief.

The music from outside immediately cuts in half, muffled and distant through the thickened walls of the maze. You could hear a pin drop in here, and the soft blue light makes them feel even more separate from the rainbow of disco lights outside.

It’s only in the sudden silence of the dim mirror maze that Billy realises he grabbed hold of Steve’s hand after all. It’s warm and soft, a little damp with sweat, and as Billy slowly comes into tune with his surroundings, he realises they’re both staring down at where their fingers are joined.

Billy clears his throat. 'I—' He breaks off, not knowing what to say about their hands. After a second, he remembers the monster. 'Did you see that thing?' 

Steve looks up at him, lips parted in shock. 'Yeah,' he says, voice distant. 'Yeah. What was it?'

Billy shakes his head. 'I’ve got no idea.'

He wets his lips. Neither of them let go of the other.

'Hey, Billy,' Steve says, his voice quiet.

Billy’s breath hitches at the sound of his name from Steve’s lips. 'Yeah?' he answers, barely above a whisper. 

He lifts his gaze to stare straight ahead, unable to look at Steve, except they’re in a maze full of mirrors, and Steve is all around him, bathed in a dim blue light that makes this whole night feel like a dream.

He watches silently as Steve turns, eyes sliding from mirror to mirror, more frantic as they go.

'Do you know the way out of here?'

—

Steve’s heart thunders in his ears as he waits for Billy’s answer. Their hands are still clasped tight, sweaty palms pressed together, and even though a part of Steve feels like he should, he doesn’t want to be the first one to pull away.

‘Yeah, of course,’ Billy says, ‘we just…’ He looks around, eyes bouncing from reflection to reflection, not quite looking at any of them. Definitely not looking at Steve. ‘Follow the maze.’

‘We follow the maze.’

Billy nods and pushes away from the wall. He doesn’t let go of Steve’s hand. ‘Yeah, what else?’ Billy’s tone is snappish.

It takes Steve a moment to wonder if Billy is spooked by more than what’s going on outside. Because his eyes flit from mirror to mirror, never staying on one too long, and the longer they stay in here, the shallower his breathing seems. It’s weird, being surrounded by yourself like this, but Steve has a feeling this is more than  _ weird _ for Billy.

‘We could go back out the way we came in,’ Steve says. He doesn’t want to, with that  _ thing _ out there. Seriously, what was that? It was so…pink. But if Billy is freaked out by the mirrors then Steve can face a weird pink whatever it was.

‘No,’ Billy says, ‘we’ll go through.’ The blue light glints on his earring as he turns his head. ‘This way.’

‘OK,’ Steve says, reluctant, but he follows the tug of Billy’s hand all the same.

It’s been years since Steve has been in a mirror maze. He used to love all the rides and attractions as a kid; the mirror maze was never his favourite but it was a good place to sneak away for a private moment with his dates.

The thought of dates, while Steve is holding onto Billy’s hand, makes Steve flush. And then he curses himself because, seriously, how can he think about that right now? Even if the image of Billy is reflected all around him, and Billy’s hand is warm in his.

Steve is so caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice Billy has stopped and bumps right into him. ‘Sorry,’ he murmurs.  


Billy is frozen and his hand is squeezing Steve’s fingers tight.

‘Billy?’ Steve frowns. He looks around but nothing has changed. Nothing that might spook Billy like this. ‘Are you OK?’

It’s another moment before Billy answers, ‘I’m fine,’ and his grip on Steve’s hand slackens. He turns and looks at Steve. Or somewhere in the middle of Steve’s chest. ‘We can duck out the next emergency exit.’

‘OK,’ Steve says, ‘sounds like a plan.’ He follows Billy again but he doesn’t know what just happened. It’s probably not the right time to ask, though. If they make it out of the fair, maybe he’ll ask then. But for now he lets Billy lead him to the next emergency exit, and when they step outside, Billy lets go of his hand.  


Steve hugs his arms around his stomach and tries to hide his disappointment. A shiver runs through him as a breeze blows past, bringing the scent of popcorn and something sweet.  


They’ve come out by the sideshows. Stalls filled with cheap crap kids will spend fortunes on trying to win stretch out around them. The carousel’s music still plays in the distance, creepy and unsettling. It bangles on Steve’s nerves.  


Billy remains quiet, shoulders tense, breaths coming too quick and too heavily.

‘Billy,’ Steve says softly.

The gaze Billy turns on him is sharp. ‘What?’

‘Which way do we go?’

Billy lets out a long breath. ‘This way.’

They pass the high striker, its bell glimmering in the moonlight. Steve looks from the game, to Billy, who is walking ahead, each step deliberate.  


‘Hey, I could win you a prize,’ Steve says, trying to lighten the mood, even though his heart is hammering like it wants out.  


‘Huh?’ Billy looks at the high striker and grunts. ‘Maybe some other time.’ He still sounds distracted, still sounds snappish and spooked.

It sits heavily in Steve’s stomach, mixing with the adrenaline pumping through him. He’s glad he didn’t eat that cotton candy, now. He doesn’t need anything else churning in his gut.

And then Billy stumbles, catching himself on the closest stall. Steve reaches out to steady him but Billy shakes him off, mumbling that he’s fine. ‘What the fuck was that?’ Billy straightens, poised for danger.

Steve sighs and bends to pick up something lying in the dirt. ‘It’s just a toy,’ he says, holding up a bear wearing a leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses. ‘Looks kinda like you.’

‘It does not.’

‘Sure it does.’ Steve waggles the bear in Billy’s direction. ‘Even got its own little leather jacket.’

‘You’re a dork,’ Billy says, but the weirdness from the mirror maze is gone now.

A small smile tugs at Steve’s mouth. Somehow, it’s almost easy to forget all the creepy stuff going on when Billy looks at him like that.

But then there is movement at the edge of Steve’s vision and—

‘One of them just moved.’ Billy jerks his chin at the row of stuffed toys. ‘You saw it this time, right?’

‘Yes,’ Steve says. He drops the bear he’s holding onto the ground between his and Billy’s feet. It pushes itself up, dusting itself off, and looks up at Steve. Steve swears it shakes its fist in annoyance. ‘Holy shit.’

The other stuffed toys are slowly coming to life, too. Some are squirming against their binds, tied to the sideshow’s wall, others are walking around, some are fighting. A pink unicorn and a cow are even dancing with each other.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ Billy looks to Steve like Steve has any clue.

‘I don’t know.’ Steve presses his lips together, crisp fall air stinging his nostrils as he sucks in deep breaths. ‘But I don’t think I want to find out.’

‘Me either.’

The huge gorilla on the top shelf beats its chest and roars. The other toys all pause, looking to the gorilla, and then they join in—beating tiny fists on fluffy chests, howling and roaring. It would be cute, almost funny, if it weren’t so fucking freaky and wrong. Steve reaches out, hand curling around Billy’s wrist, backing away slowly. Billy moves with him, matching Steve step for step, and they turn as one.

A shadow falls across the ground. Steve doesn’t want to look up but he has to. It will be worse if he doesn’t. In the distance, that same weird  _ thing _ they had ducked into the mirror maze to escape is turning what can only be a head, this way and that. Like it’s looking for something, or someone. Steve swallows thickly. Or two someones.

It’s still too far away for Steve to see clearly but that’s fine. That is so fine.  


He doesn’t need to see it clearly to know that it’s fucked up and  _ wrong _ and he thought all this crazy shit was over. Third time's meant to be the charm, right?  


They defeated the monsters three times, so they should be safe now. Free.

The thing growls, a low rumble vibrating in the air, hitting low in Steve’s stomach.

So much for freedom.

—

It’s a giant fucking marshmallow. Billy stares at the distant monster in horror, torn between wanting to run so fast he leaves Steve behind in the dust, and wanting to laugh because holy shit it’s a  _ giant fucking marshmallow. _

This is it. He’s lost it. Mark the date, October 30th 1985—the day when Billy Hargrove truly lost his grip on sanity. Despite surviving a terrifying creature from another dimension and more death than anyone should ever witness in their lifetime, he tipped over the edge thanks to a Halloween carnival and some candy.

And then the marshmallow turns around, and every urge to laugh drains from his body. His fingers squeeze Steve’s palm tighter, gripping so hard it hurts, and forget running—he wants to keel over right here and give up.

Firstly, it isn’t a marshmallow. It’s cotton candy. Twenty feet of sticky, sentient cotton candy.

Secondly, it has a face. Two beady eyes sink deep into the creature’s head, crusty and dark like the way cotton candy gets when you let it sit in your mouth for too long before it dissolves. The eyes swivel towards them, and then its mouth tears open into a frightening, soundless scream until all Billy can see is the gaping maw of crystallized sugar aimed right at him. It’s threatening in a way he never imagined before, and he can feel Steve shudder beneath his grip as the two of them stumble backwards.

One of them yells, 'Run!'—Billy has no idea who—and then suddenly they’re backing up and just legging it back towards the other side of the fair. Their hands fall apart, each of them focused now on running for their lives. Behind them, slow, heavy footsteps rattle the earth, each  _ thud _ sending a shockwave pounding beneath their feet.

They need to leave right the fuck now, except he soon realises they aren’t going the right way to get out. Somehow, they got turned around in the chase, and they’re back near the carousel.

' _ Shit! _ ' Billy snarls. 'We’re running into a corner.'

If they go left, they’ll get trapped back at the mirror maze and the bumper cars. If they go right, it’s a mess of tents and narrow laneways that will trap them immediately since Billy highly doubts this creature is going to care about following the designated path.

He glances over his shoulder just in time to see the giant cotton candy monster stomp down on a tent like it’s made of tissue paper. Billy has never been less pleased to be right.

He shakes his head and runs faster.

'This way.' Steve grabs him by the shoulder and shoves him hard, towards the carousel.

'It’s not the time for a fucking pony ride, Steve,' he snaps, but follows anyway, hoping Steve has a plan.

Steve keeps shoving him, directing him into the centre of the moving carousel—which is creepy as hell, watching the horses spin around them while the music plays and no one sits at the control booth—and then Billy works out what Steve’s doing.

'Genius,' he mutters, clapping Steve roughly on the shoulder as he dives for the tiny door hidden in the glitzy decoration.

Steve darts him a shocked look and mumbles something Billy doesn’t catch.

This carousel is one of the designs that keeps a tiny booth in the centre, both for maintenance purposes and so someone can monitor from the inside. Billy fumbles with the tacky spinning pillars and painted horse reliefs until he finds the catch. Then, he flings the door open and shoves Steve inside first.

The door slams shut behind them, leaving the upbeat but haunting carousel music to echo strangely in the tiny space above their heads, muffled but somehow louder.

'He can’t crush a carousel, right?' Steve whispers, even though there’s no need. 'He’s made of sugar. It’ll just, I don’t know, mold around it. Yeah?' He plants his hands on his hips, a pained expression crossing his face as he says again, less sure, 'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' Billy nods. 'Yeah, sure.' Still nodding, because he’s trying to convince himself.

He sidles up to the tiny window on the opposite side to the door and peeks through. In the distance, the cotton candy  _ thing  _ is veering in the direction they’d been running before, the ground still shaking with every step.

Steve appears beside him, face pressed so close in the tiny space that their hair mingles together. 'Looks like he’s leaving,' he mutters, voice still hushed.

'Looks like it,' Billy agrees, no longer looking at the monster at all.

He realises suddenly what’s different about tonight, about the fear and the running and the horrible looming sense of danger. It isn’t just the monster that’s different, it’s Billy.

He isn’t alone.

Steve must feel him looking, because he lifts his eyes to Billy’s, and it’s then that Billy realises just how close they are. He can feel Steve’s breath against his cheek, warm and grounding.

'When do we make a run for it?' Billy asks, the breath from his words lifting a strand of Steve’s hair. 

Unwittingly, his gaze falls to Steve’s lips. When he drags his eyes back up, he sees Steve’s has fallen to Billy’s as well.

'Um,' Steve begins, but his words are cut off by a grating sound, like machinery grinding together, and suddenly, the world shakes.

Their heads whip back to the window again, and this time a different face stares back—a pink, fluffy, demonic face bent low so it can see beneath the carousel roof while its hand grips the top and shakes. The room lurches again.

'The ferris wheel!' Steve spits out, diving for the door and dragging Billy with him. 'If we can get to the top, it can’t reach us! We need height.' 

They need a goddamn tranquilizer gun, Billy thinks, but lacking any better plan, he follows.

—

The flight to the Ferris Wheel is frantic; Steve doesn’t even have the presence of mind to be distracted by the feel of Billy’s hand in his again because they are being chased by a giant cotton candy monster.  


He’s fought demogorgons and demodogs and Russian spies and he’s going to be eaten by a monster made out of freaking cotton candy. It won’t even be a cool death, let alone a heroic one. It will be sticky and ridiculous and  _ pink _ .

Why is this happening again? Why does the universe seem to hate Hawkins so much?

And why did it have to happen just when he was thinking Billy might… That maybe he and Billy could…

Fuck. It’s not fair.

Jesus Christ, get a grip, Harrington. It’s not the end of the world. The apocalypse can’t start at the Halloween Fair. It just can’t.

‘This way,’ Billy says, tugging on Steve’s hand, pulling him past the Gravitron, their feet pounding the dirt.

Too close behind, the monster's plodding steps shake the ground. They vibrate in the air, raising goosebumps on Steve’s skin, reverberating in his chest. His calves are on fire and his lungs ache but he can’t stop.

The fairgrounds have come completely to life since the lights came back on when they shouldn’t have. Up ahead, the Ferris wheel is turning slowly, carriages swaying, lights twinkling.

‘Shit,’ Steve says, panting, when they come to a stop. He braces his hands on his thighs, looking up at the Ferris wheel. ‘How do you turn it off?’

‘Over here.’ Billy walks over to the side where there is a large lever. He grips it in both hands and pulls but it doesn’t budge. ‘Give me a hand, will you? Damn thing must be stuck.’ It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself he doesn’t think it’s not all part of this weird shit.

Steve goes over, stands beside Billy and they pull together—hand over hand—but the lever still won’t budge. They pull until Steve’s hands ache and his arms tremble but nothing happens. ‘It’s no use.’ He shakes his hands out, tries to get some feeling back into them.  


‘Fuck.’ Billy kicks the Ferris Wheel, then looks around, desperate. ‘Maybe I can…’ He reaches in and grabs a thick black cable. His biceps flex beneath his leather jacket as he pulls.

‘Billy, I’m not sure—‘

The cable comes free and the Ferris wheel stops. Billy is holding the cable up proudly, frayed wires straggling out of either end. ‘That worked.’

‘Yeah, but’—Steve presses his lips together, points to the top—‘how do we get up there now?’

Billy drops the cable and follows the line of Steve’s finger. ‘Uh…’ He chews on his thumbnail, brow furrowed. The carriages are still swaying slightly, hinges creaking. Then Billy’s expression clears and he looks over at Steve. ‘Hey, Harrington,’ he says, ‘you a good climber?’

‘I’m pretty good, but what—‘ Steve takes in the look on Billy’s face, and his heart plummets. ‘Oh, no.’ He’s not going to… They’re not going to… ‘No.’

‘Yep.’ Billy nods.

‘Damn it.’ Steve fists a hand in his hair and sucks in a steadying breath. ‘OK, let’s do this.’

‘Attaboy,’ Billy says. He juts his chin at the Ferris wheel. ‘Up you go.’

Steve takes a step forward, pauses, turns to look at Billy. ‘Why am I going first?’

‘Hey, I’m putting myself at risk here,’ Billy says. ‘I mean, if you fall on me—‘

‘I’m not going to fall,’ Steve says, pulse jumping. The memory of falling and falling and falling hits him, takes his breath away for a moment. But he shakes it off and turns back to the Ferris wheel and starts to climb with more conviction than he feels.

The metal frame cuts into his hands and his thighs are trembling—fuck, he needs to start working out, or something—but he pushes himself. Once or twice his sneakers slip and his stomach swoops but he’s not going to fall. He’s not.

‘You doing OK down there?’ Steve asks, tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

‘Yeah,’ Billy says, voice strained, ‘got a great view.’

Steve chances a look around. Below, the fairground is all lit up, a blur of light and colour; above, the inky sky stretches infinitely, stars winking in the clear night. ‘Yeah, I guess it’s nice from up here.’

Billy snorts. ‘That’s not the view I’m appreciating.’

What other view— Oh. Steve’s face warms. All night, it’s felt like maybe there could be something between him and Billy, something that isn’t Steve staring pathetically when Billy comes into Family Video, wondering how he can drop hints to see if Billy’s into guys at all, let alone Steve.  


But this is definitely Billy flirting with him. Steve’s sure of it. Pretty sure.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline. Steve hopes it isn’t.  


By the time they get to the top, Steve’s skin is slick with sweat, the crisp air only making his damp clothes all the more uncomfortable. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, then reaches down to help Billy clamber into the carriage.

They end up pressed close together, though there’s more than enough room for the both of them. Steve is glad for Billy’s presence by his side. Being stuck here alone—

He doesn’t want to think about it.  


‘What now?’ Billy asks.  


‘Um.’ Steve looks around. The monster has disappeared from view but not being able to see it is worse. ‘I don’t know. But it can’t get us up here.’ He looks to Billy. ‘Right?’

‘Right,’ Billy says, but he doesn’t sound sure.

Somewhere behind them there is a rattling boom; Steve startles and grabs Billy’s hand where it rests between them. ‘What was that?’ When he looks over at Billy, his gaze has gone distant. ‘Billy?’

‘Ask me something.’

‘What?’

‘Ask me something stupid.’

‘Um.’ Something stupid. Shouldn’t be hard for Steve, but his mind has gone blank. He looks around, eyes landing on the fair’s banner and says, ‘What’s your Halloween costume this year?’

Billy’s brows raise but his shoulders loosen and his fingers curl into Steve’s. ‘Snake Plikksen,’ he says and, at Steve’s blank look, adds, ‘ _ Escape from New York _ .’

Steve gives a minute shake of his head.

‘Kurt Russell?’

Steve’s eyes narrow.

‘Seriously, dude,’ Billy says, seems...fine now. ‘You work in a video store.’ He rolls his eyes at Steve’s little shrug and says, ‘I get to wear an eye patch.’

‘Cool,’ Steve says. His heart is still racing, and adrenaline is still spiking in his veins, but right now they’re okay. They’re okay.

‘What’s yours?’

‘Maverick,’ Steve says, ‘from  _ Top Gun _ .’

‘The leather jacket or the flight suit?’

‘Flight suit,’ Steve says.  


‘Nice.’

Silence settles between them, just this side of uncomfortable. It’s Billy who breaks it: ‘Hey, Harrington.’  


‘Yeah.’

‘Last summer…’ Billy drums the fingers of his free hand on the safety bar, looking out across the fairground. ‘Did you think you were going to die?’

Of all the possible things Billy could have said— Steve swallows thickly. ‘Um. I guess.’

‘What did you…’ Billy sighs and shakes his head. ‘Forget it.’

‘What did I what?’

‘What did you think about?’

The question unsettles Steve even more than the first. It doesn’t seem like something Billy would ask. But he _ did _ and Steve feels like he owes him an honest answer. ‘I—‘ He has to take a moment to remember. It’s a blur, made worse by being drugged at the time. But one thought, at least, emerges clear enough that he can say, ‘That I wouldn’t be able to save them.’

Billy’s head dips, lashes kissing the ridges of his cheeks.

‘What did  _ you _ think about?’

‘That I was going to die and no one would give a shit.’ Billy looks up at Steve, eyes glassy in the moonlight. ‘And I wouldn’t have blamed them.’

‘That’s not—‘ Steve’s throat works. ‘Max,’ is all he manages to say before he can’t say anything else.

Billy shrugs one shoulder. ‘I didn’t want— But I was ready, maybe. Tonight, I’m just pissed.’

He thumps the heel of his hand on the safety bar. ‘I don’t want to fucking_ die_, Harrington.’

Steve grabs Billy’s shoulder, pulls so Billy’s looking at him. ‘We’re not dying tonight, OK?’

‘You sure about that?’

‘OK, look, let’s just figure out what we know.’ Steve tries to think of what Robin or Dustin would do. ‘It’s made from cotton candy…what do we know about cotton candy?’

‘It’s sugar.’ Billy shakes his head. ‘It’s pink.’

‘That helps.’

‘You got anything better?’

‘You eat it—‘

‘You want to eat the monster?’

‘I didn’t say we eat the  _ monster _ —‘

‘We’re going to die.’

‘We’re not— Stop being so dramatic.’

‘I’m not. But if I was, I think this is the perfect time to be—‘

Steve leans over, the sudden motion rocking the carriage, and presses his lips to Billy’s. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but Billy was talking about dying and Steve felt this urge, this_ pull_, and he— He’s got both hands on Billy’s shoulders, fingers sinking into leather, and he’s finally—_finally_—kissing Billy. And Billy kisses back.

And it’s not how Steve envisioned it—not even close—but it’s good. Better than good.  


‘We are not going to die, OK?’ he says, when he pulls away, voice breathy. ‘We are going to kill that thing and save the fucking fair and you are going to come over for some of my mom’s pie and— And— And I’m going to kiss you again.’

Billy blinks and then his lips twist into a smile. Not a smirk, an actual god’s honest smile. He licks his lips and says, ‘Then what are you waiting for?’

They both lean in, meeting each other halfway. There’s not much time, they need a plan to kill the monster, but kissing isn’t something Steve takes lightly. So, he tilts Billy’s head with the hands cupping his jaw, licks at Billy’s lips until he parts them, and then slides their tongues together. Billy hums, catches Steve’s bottom lip with his teeth, hands at Steve’s waist. God, it’s _good_. So damn good and Steve wants—needs—more.

But then another roar rips through the night, far far too close, and they jump apart, both their gazes searching the fairgrounds.

‘Water!’ Steve says.

Billy’s head whips around. ‘What?’

‘Cotton candy melts,’ Steve says, ‘so maybe if we get it wet…’

‘I don’t think it’ll fit in the dunking booth,’ Billy says, and Steve’s heart sinks. It was a  _ stupid  _ idea— Billy snaps his fingers. ‘There’s a fire hose, though!’ Billy grabs Steve’s face in both his hand and kisses him again. ‘You are a genius, Harrington.’

‘Thanks,’ Steve says, face warming. He doesn’t know what to do with that but— ‘Wait, this means we need to climb back down, doesn’t it?’

‘Yep.’ Billy looks over the side, then back to Steve. ‘After you.’

‘Why am I going first  _ again _ ?’

‘Age before beauty, Harrington,’ Billy says with a wink.

Steve groans but he swings his leg over the side and starts the climb back down.

—

When they drop the final feet to the ground, it’s eerily quiet. The sound of their shoes hitting the asphalt echoes in Billy’s ears, making him twitch and jump around so quickly he stumbles, searching for a sign that anything heard them.

Nothing moves. In the distance, an owl screeches, melancholy and haunting.

‘Fire hose is this way,’ Billy mutters, pretending to ignore the way Steve jumps at the sound, and leads the way across the main square.

‘Lit a lot of fires here, have you?’ Steve asks, but it lacks bite. It’s just a quippy jab to break the silence, and honestly, Billy gets it.

'Gotta pass the time somehow.'

Gravel crunches beneath his feet, and then something behind them shatters and they’re running, pelting across the asphalt without looking back. Giant footsteps pound the ground, slow and methodical but still so close it makes Billy’s heart race.

Out of the corner of his eye, bright colours flash, and he realises the toys are back. Dozens of tiny teddy bears race down the strip towards them.

'Motherfucker!' Billy yelps, voice leaping higher—the same panicked, instinctive reaction as that time a giant spider had dropped onto his hair while he was still naked from the shower—and he sprints even faster. 'I am  _ not _ dying because of a tie-dye teddy bear in a leather jacket, Harrington.'

Steve glances over his shoulder and blanches. 'Shit no,' he agrees, and then they’re at the fire hose, and Billy is yanking it so hard the hose nearly reels back up on itself, and Steve is waiting at the dial for him to be ready, and all the monsters—when Billy finally faces them—have paused.

They study him, beady eyes gleaming while the cotton candy  _ asshole  _ takes two gigantic steps closer. It’s nearly in range. Billy just has to knock these teddies flying, and he can take down the big boss.

'I’m gonna give you assholes a chance,' Billy sneers, aiming the hose at the closest teddy bear, before mumbling. 'No I’m not.' He tilts his head so he can shout over his shoulder, 'Now, Harrington!'

'Wow that’s cool.'

Billy gapes, turning in full to stare at Steve, who has the grace to at least look sheepish.

'Right, not the time!' Steve salutes him—the dorky gesture making Billy’s stomach flop in an even dorkier way—and spins the dial to turn on the fire hose.

Billy is thrown backwards from the force, but he manages to find his footing, widening his stance and leaning into the power of it. The water cascades from the hose, sending the menacing stuffed toys hurtling into the distance.

Then he turns it on the monster. For a long, horrifying minute, he thinks it isn’t working. He takes a step backwards, then another, still sending the torrential stream pouring down onto the creature. But then the creature opens its mouth in a soundless scream, and Billy slowly realises it isn’t talking; it’s melting. He aims the hose higher, right into the centre of its throat, and whoops as the entire thing begins to crumble.

' _ Fuck _ yeah, Harrington. That’s how you do it!' He whoops again, louder, and in his celebration he almost misses the figure in the background.

But Steve sprints past him, so fast he’s a blur, and he thinks he hears him yell, 'I  _ know  _ you, you shithead!' but he has to keep the hose trained on the monster until it’s completely gone, and so he doesn’t know for sure.

With a groan like a building collapsing, the last of the cotton candy monstrosity disintegrates, pieces of crusty, melted goop flying in every direction. It lands in Billy’s hair, in his mouth, all over his clothes. And it almost drowns the two figures rolling on the ground in the distance.

Billy throws the hose away and races towards them. When he’s close enough, he can see Steve’s winning, so he slows down and tries to figure out who the hell the other guy is. Billy doesn’t know him, but if Steve thinks he’s a shithead, that’s good enough for Billy, so he stands back and lights up a very welcome, very needed cigarette.

As Steve throws one final punch and shoves backwards, away from the man who has given up all pretence of a fight, he looks up at Billy, incredulous. 'A little help?'

'You had it covered.' Billy jerks his head towards the stranger. 'Who’s this?'

'He’s one of the men from the fucking lab,' Steve mutters, looking about three seconds away from spitting on him. 'Probably using this whole thing as an experiment for something new, now they don’t have a gate to play with.'

The man covers his face and groans, somehow turning acquiescence into a plea for mercy in only one syllable.

Billy sneers at him. 'Fucking nerds.'

'Hey, nerds aren’t all bad,' Steve protests, climbing to his feet.

Billy lifts one eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he offers Steve his cigarette and relishes the quiet smile he gets in return as Steve brings it to his lips and takes a slow drag.

'What now?' Billy asks, voice low and suggestive.

Steve’s eyes dart to his, almost shy. 'We’d better call someone to clean this up,' he says reluctantly, kicking the guy’s shoe. 'And then…' He can’t keep the smile off his face as he looks up at Billy properly and offers him the cigarette.

'And then,' Billy agrees, taking a pull from the cigarette while it’s still between Steve’s fingers and grinning right back.

Something knocks against his foot, and when he looks down, he sees one of the purple teddies keel over onto the ground. The last of whatever hocus pocus the scientist did on it seems to have disappeared, and even if it hadn’t, Billy can tell this time it’s… different. The manic gleam in the toy’s eye has gone, and instead it just looks… homely. Kind.

He nudges it with his foot.

'You’re not going soft on me, are you?' Steve asks him, grinning. 

He bends down and picks up the teddy, holding it up to the light. In the distance, sirens blare, getting closer with each passing second. Someone must have alerted them to the lights—and probably the screams, though Billy will definitely blame Steve for that one.

'Definitely not,' Billy says, pretending to ignore the fond way Steve eyes the bear’s jacket, and how much the jacket looks like Billy’s.

'Then you won’t mind me keeping this?' Steve says, holding up the bear.

Billy laughs, the sound low in his throat. Then he notices what’s pinned to the bear’s jacket. Grinning, he reaches forward and plucks the ribbon from the lapel, hooking it onto the top of Steve’s shirt instead.

Steve looks down, confused, and up again. The furrow between his brows is disgustingly cute, but Billy can’t even find it in himself to care that he clearly  _ has _ turned soft. For once, he lets himself enjoy the sappy emotions stirring in his chest when he looks at Steve—because finally, he’s allowed to look. 

'There you go, Harrington,' Billy says, his smile softening until it, too, is probably disgustingly cute. 'You won the blue ribbon after all.' 

**Author's Note:**

> Spot the sneaky Escape from L.A. quote we couldn’t resist, even though it came out too late for the characters to know it. Thanks so much for reading! You can find [gothyringwald](https://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/) and [socknonny](https://socknonny.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for more harringrove flailing. Gorgeous fic art by gothy at the other side of [this link](https://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/188732815450/it-happened-at-the-halloween-fair-by).


End file.
